


The Blood Donor

by greenhillsblueskies



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Amnesia, Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Sonadow - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenhillsblueskies/pseuds/greenhillsblueskies
Summary: Shadow only wanted to make sense of his fractured memories. He didn't ask to be some magnet to the supernatural, or to be Bound to an unstable vampire with a specific taste for his blood. But the more he spends time with Sonic, the more he learns the two share a past that neither can remember... and that he himself isn't as normal as he looks.





	The Blood Donor

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you like this concept, if you would want to see any more of it, and if you'd like it to stay Teen rated or go into Mature or Explicit territory. I have a couple chapters written, but I don't want to write things folks wouldn't read.

All his mind could hold of this place was a fractured image. The silhouette of skyscrapers, cutting across a clear sky with jagged, dark lines. Blue, with the smell of grass. An emptiness in his chest. A harsh green that faded into a haze. Then…nothing.

It didn't make sense.

The images would spring to his mind at the strangest times. He would be hunting down his food, lowering himself to the ground to hide his approach. However, the moment he would smell the grass, all would come back. His concentration would break, and by the time it was back his prey would be long gone. The times they would spring in his sleep were almost worse; for some reason, having the images manifest as dreams made him wake in a cold sweat, his heart racing as if he had narrowly escaped from some great evil. As time carried on, though, he felt compelled to seek out the reason for the images in his mind, if for no other reason than to quell the disturbances such things brought into his life. Somehow, though, he knew that the abstract barrage may lead to something greater. And so, off he went in search of it.

It was such a bizarre mishmash that the man had almost doubted it was real, but when he found that jagged skyline at last, after the sun set at least twenty times since beginning his search, he felt himself sink in relief. Clouds that had not been there now held lugubrious in the distance and the sky was painted with the purples and reds of sunset, but it was otherwise the same as the picture in his head. He had sketched it out, nervous that relying on his memory alone would bring about the wrong answers, and line for line, edge for edge, it aligned perfectly. "It's here," he said to no one in particular. He braced himself against a nearby tree, finding solace in the remaining wood, and allowed himself to sink to his knees.

Home, he thought. It was an odd concept to him, having no memory of spending more than four days in any one place, but this city was resounding in his mind. How long had he traveled in search of this place? It had been at least two cycles of the seasons, enduring the harsh cold twice and nearly approaching another one. The journey through his native forests, blistering deserts, and expansive fields had been carried out by foot, his encounters with others brief and inconsequential. It wasn't a life he disliked; in fact, he rather appreciated the solitude. But it wasn't the life he was supposed to lead, the life he was looking for. Now, as the sun dipped behind the towering buildings, his journey was also nearing an end. A cold, bone-chilling wind rustled through the leaves, as if to usher him towards the town he had been seeking for so long.

His aching legs, however, had no desire to make another step. They shook from the strain of hours of walking, and the man knew to make a journey for artificial shelter so late would be fruitless anyway. With slowly closing eyes, he resigned himself to rest here for the night. It had already been so long; surely a few hours wouldn't harm him. His body leaned against the tree, his head angled downwards as if to see the scattered leaves around him. The rest would only be a moment, he told himself. One, single moment….

His consciousness drifted away, unaware of the predator lurking in the trees above.

* * *

_The beast had come back from the wood with curious eyes. His irritation showed on his face. To be out here so early in the night was risky and it would seem that his search had largely been in vain. He would not give up, though. There was no denying what he had felt a few hours ago. The sensation of static electricity in the air that only he seemed to feel, his entire body coiling in anticipation of some powerful force. Something was approaching tonight - something strong and magnetic to one of his kind. He had to go out there and find it before the others. He was compelled to._

_He hadn't seen other beasts like himself while he was out. It was a good sign; all the objective marks showed this night as the same as any other. The woods in the outskirts of the City of Danvers were empty of people and even most animals after dark; the locals knew better by now than to come here after the sun set. It was tempting fate, practically suicide. Aside from the occasional tourist or foolhardy teenager, there was so little blood to be had here anymore that it was hardly worth travelling. Sure, he had fed that night - enough to be sated, at least. But even if a few stray dogs managed to stave off the pangs of hunger deep within him, it certainly wasn't the same as being satisfied._

_Whatever was coming, he knew that it could make him feel_ satisfied _._

_He had almost returned back after what he had thought was a fruitless seach when he saw a sliver of red stand out in the dark. It was the red of blood, but it didn't appear wet nor did it have the discoloration after it dried. Bizarre, he thought to himself as he moved himself closer to it. Shifting through the branches in the trees, he saw the source of the color. It was the quills of a man beneath him, sleeping. As he came closer to make out the stranger's shape, he felt a stirring deep inside of him. He had to blink thrice to believe it; was this man the source of the pull he had felt? The one who drew him so far out? It was hard to think this man could cause such a feeling - he wasn't particularly large or bulky, nor did he immediately seem intimidating. Not to mention that sleeping in the day either made him a mortal or a freshly turned one of his kind. Still, the beast had to trust his instinct. After all, he of all things knew how deceptive appearances could be._

_His eyes trained on the man, making sure his breaths were even and slow before dropping from the tree. Up close, he noticed that the body had lean, toned muscles in all the right places - no bulk, perfect where it needed to be. It was the sort of body hardly seen anymore, the sort where muscles developed naturally from the movement of fighting and hunting rather than some artificial regime. Still not impressive in terms of size, and certainly no match for his own strength, but for a mortal, it was remarkable. And attractive, he noted with some incredulity. He seldom thought of much else than feeding and defending his territory, but as the beast's eyes trailed over the other's body, he found himself picturing something entirely different in his mind._

_As it continued to analyze the other with its eyes, the beast grew subconciously growing closer to the unconcious body. He grazed his fingers over the chest, feeling the inhales and exhales move it out and in. It was firm and muscular, yet soft enough to bite into should he want to. The beast wondered how this man tasted, leaning in to smell his fur. As he did, his pupils dilated and his heart raced. At that moment he knew the truth. It hadn't been the physical form that drew him (although the more his eyes saw it, the more he wanted it). No - it was his blood._

* * *

The man's eyes shot open with the sensation of breath on his neck. What the…? With a shove, he pushed his intruder away and sprung to his feet. His rest interrupted, he braced for a fight. Something had snuck up on him and gotten so close. If it was only a moment longer….

As he sized up his opponent, the man felt a stirring in his chest. It – no, he – had clearly been caught off guard by the push. He noticed that, in a weird way, this stranger almost looked like him. Of course, he was a bold, cobalt blue, and his quills angled behind him as if by the wind, but his face and his deep red eyes reflected his own. His body, too, looked like his own - perhaps less muscle, but with an aura of undeniable strength. Something stirred from deep within his mind. Did he know this person from somewhere? He almost looked familiar.

The other was looking at him oddly, he noticed. Its face was flushed, a sort of hunger in its eyes. The beast was chuckling to himself, and the man tensed up in response. "Looks like you've got some fight in you," he said. "I'm so excited! I just love to play with my food, but nobody holds up long enough for it to be any fun!"

A scowl formed on the man's face and his fist quivered in its tightness. This guy is too cocky for his own good, he thought.

"Aw, come on, don't go all statue on me now. We were just about to have some fun."

The tongue in the man's mouth felt odd as he spoke to someone other than himself for the first time in a season, twisting over itself as if it were burdened with heavy weight. "What…do you want me for? Who…are you?"

The cocky grin on the other's face didn't leave. "Don't you know there's a power in names, buddy? Like I'd just blurt out what my true name is to just anybody. As for what I want? Oh, I don't really know yet." He made two steps towards him, fixing his eyes on the other's. "Do I just want to bite into your wrist and make it as painless as possible? Do I want to slowly drain the life from your neck with a bite that would light your senses on fire? Or do I just tear into your chest and rip you open like a present?"

A brief flutter of fear started in his stomach, but he was determined to keep from showing it on his face. This man…he spoke like an animal.

"Or maybe," the stranger continued, "I can draw it out. Pin you down, touch your body in ways you've never felt before. Make you whimper and beg for more. And then, just as you're about to have the strongest pleasure of your life wrack your body, I can bite into you and drink it all up. Gotta admit, that's my favorite option right now."

His red eyes looked like those he had seen on feral cats, moments before they trapped and ate an unexpecting bird. There was hunger in those eyes, yes, but also a twisted playfulness. This man didn't just think he was going to kill the other. He was going to play with him. Enjoy it.

But not without a fight.

Not wanting to give his tormenter the benefit of the first blow, the man blazed past him in a flurry of movement. He arched his elbow around his opponent's side and slammed it hand into the small of his back. The other fell forward, but not before twisting to land on his back. His legs splayed out in two directions; the first scattering dirt in the air and the second aiming for the man's knees. The first endeavor was successful, temporarily blinding the man, but the speed helped him to counter the second, grabbing hold of the leg and putting it in a bind. He could have snapped it without too much effort, but with his eyes shut, it was hard to gain the leverage he needed.

His attacker took this to his advantage, wrapping his arms around his chest and pulling himself close. The movement was supposed to suffocate him, limiting his grasp, but there was an odd warmth to it. As the man opened his eyes again, his face was in the other's side. His vision filled with what he now knew was a familiar color and, with dread, he realized that this the other had met him outside. The smell of grass permeated his senses, and the world around him began to spin. No, not now, not now! But his mind was already gone, lost in the images.

The skyline from his memory flashed before his eyes before passing to the blue with a smell of grass. This time, though, it lingered. It was different.

He felt warm. This wasn't the embrace of an attack, but somehow…loving. How odd, he thought. He had been alone for so long, and yet in this memories, he had been content resting himself against the blue. He was remembering, for one thing, that this bright blue was another person. Someone he had cared about, but forotten. The smell of grass was new to him, back then, and it clung to the other person like honey. He was being carried somewhere, feeling completely at ease. The final memory before erupting to the other familiar snippets was looking up at the face of the blue person. It looked like his attacker…but the eyes, instead of the cutting red, were a sparkling green.

The emptiness in his chest. A different, harsh green, fading into haze. And lastly, the feeling that he was supposed to have forgotten all of this. All passed through him like a breeze, staying mere instances before they passed. He was desperate to go back to that blue, to unlock the memory of this man. He tried to reach out for it with his mind, but it was no use. It wouldn't return.

As fast as they came, they were gone again. The burning agony through his body made itself strongly known, and he was caught so off guard that he couldn't help but yelp. His distraction had prevented him from protecting himself from the other's onslaught, his body practically paralyzed. His assailant's teeth were buried in his neck, a bite almost sensual if not for the pain. He found himself succumbing to it, wondering why he felt so cold until he realized what was happening. This assailant, this beast, was drinking his blood.

"I have to say," he said, withdrawing for a moment, "you threw me for a loop there. You're faster than any mortal I've ever met. Actually making me pause. I wondered if you were just another vamp like me." With a groan of pleasure, he sank his red tinted teeth back in the other, prompting a brief scream. "But vamps don't taste this good! Chaos, it's like ambrosia! You almost make me feel like I'm alive again, this blood going down my throat! I wish I could drink you dry every day!"

Darkness encroached on the man's vision, and he couldn't help but curse the fate that would kill him so close to the truth. He forced himself to see the blue of his attacker and, surprisingly, found that he didn't feel angry. Instead, a warmth spread in his chest, like the relief after a long cry. The respite after grieving.

"Your name…" he coughed out, "was…is…Sonic."

The man didn't know where the knowledge came from. It was just obvious to him now, as engrained in him as his own heartbeat; he just needed to bring it out and listen to it. The attacker appeared not to hear him at first, and the man wondered if he had really said the words. After a moment, though, the attacker slowed his vicious drinking. The curious eyes looked at him for a second before becoming fearful. He backed away from him, his face bearing a newfound seriousness. "What…what did you say?" he asked, the humor gone from his voice.

"Your name…is…Sonic…."

The other's face blazed in a mixture of rage and... confusion? "How do you know that? What are you–"

"–your eyes.…" he told the other, choking on his words, "…some time…before…they were…green…weren't they?"

The attacker replied at him, his tone harried, but the words became muddled.

"They…were beautiful…."

A part of the man wanted to strain to hear the other as his voice became more frantic, but somehow, he knew it would do no good. There was little he could do now, even though he was so close. The last clear thing he could hear as he slipped away was his killer, screaming.


End file.
